CHAPTER 82
ALESSANDRA VITELLO VOLKOV.
“This is a bad idea”, Yan whispers, gardening shears in hand, a growl marring his usual grumpy face.
“You can leave, I’ve got this under control.”
Two days we have been here and I have scoured every inch of this place, counting the cameras, looking into the background of the other maids Lucia hired and tolerating the fake pictures of Christian when he was young and a teen hanging around the house.
“I am not a gardener; they will notice that soon. And you are clearly not a maid. Alessandra I’m here for your safety but-.”
“He’s coming in today.”
“That does not change anything.”
“Kai went to great lengths to put us in this mansion, I’ll ensure Christian remembers me and we can put this whole mission behind us in no time.”
“Your mother will kill me if she finds out what we have been doing.”
“I stopped being my mother’s concern a long time ago, Yan. Shoo, they might see us talking and put two in two together. Go uhm do your gardening stuff and I’ll take care of the rest.”
The fact that no one questioned how a bulky six-foot-two man fell into the category of being a gardener still baffled me.
I straighten my maid’s uniform, a cliched white and black uniform with a white lace collar and run back into the house.
Lucia Volkov has gone to extreme lengths to ensure her son is caged in this mansion.
These maid uniforms are to ensure Christian doesn’t have time to check us out or notice that we exist.
Not that he would anyway because apparently, he is madly in love with his fiancé, Poppy Woodcock.
The thought of it crumples my heart and makes my chest ache but I still push on.
I have been pretending to wipe the photo frames for half an hour while I stand at the foyer looking at the main door.
The woman in charge of us, a sweet sixty-something old woman but sadly a spy for Lucia Volkov, said Christian would be coming home tonight.
So, I have waited.
Two years. Five months. Two weeks and two days later. I’m waiting.
Yet excitement and exhilaration stab my chest with so many needles when I hear the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.
He’s here.
Christian, he’s here.
I hear the car lock.
I can practically and almost hear his footsteps.
The main door opens, that aura he has always carried with him since we met walks in with him.
Suddenly I’m looking at the man I fell in love with and thought I lost and it still… I can’t help choking on that feeling.
Because this is love.
Love fills you up to the brim before it bites you in the ass, you never see it coming.
To love is to hurt.
I’m hurting now as I watch all six feet of Christian Vitello Volkov walk in lengthy strides towards me.
But I’m more than in love when I look at that face and see him breathing. He’s breathing. He’s not pale. He’s not dead. He’s not bleeding.
The suit covers his arm tattoos, but his chest tattoos still peek underneath his shirt.
Tattoos I ran my hands over in the past.
He passes by me and I raise my hand like a fool waving at him.
In point two seconds, my husband passes me like he doesn’t see me. Like he doesn’t even notice we exist in the same mortal plane.
My high-five is still in mid-air, my smile wobbly.
“I know we are new and all but keep dreaming, sugar tits. The big boss barely acknowledges any woman that isn’t Poppy and I’m sorry to burst your bubble or whatever crush you have going on here but you and him will never be a thing”, my new co-worker stands before me.
Luna, yeah that’s her name and soon as I saw her, I knew she was going to be a bitch.
I could dignify her with an answer but I’m still shamelessly sniffing Christian’s cologne.
He might have changed colognes but his musky scent is still in there.
“Maria needs new sheets so be a darling and get some in the guest room.”
I could ask her why she is not going for them herself but the guest room also happens to be next to Christian’s room which is an added advantage.
I turn around and walk up the stairs.
Two minutes later I’m looking at the brown door. The only thing separating me and him. The only thing after all these years of grief and self-blame is keeping me away from my husband.
I grab the doorknob.
I could walk in and claim that I was sent here to change his sheets.
I could walk in and say I’m there to clean or to take his laundry.
In all honesty, I walk in just to see him up close, just to see his eyes recognize mine, just to hear his voice or touch him or hug him. Anything. I’ll take crumbs at this point.
His room is bland. As expected. He never was a ‘bright color’ type of person anyway.
Black and grey colors.
A few Wall Street magazines by the nightstand. His clothes on the bed. And not even a single picture of himself.
His mother’s picture is on the nightstand though. I want to smash it into pieces but I restrain myself from doing so.
Lucia Volkov will get what’s coming to her soon enough.
The sound behind me of the shower running calls to me like a beacon. My legs move before I can even think.
My hands push the door open just slightly enough to get my head in.
My breath catches when I meet Christian’s naked back.
Muscles over more muscles rippling on his back as water mars his skin, falling to the floor.
His dark hair is spiky and kissing the back of his neck. A neck that has the same bullet graze wound I gave him in Russia.
I smile. My eyes water.
If my children could see this now. Not the naked part but him, I could tell them, ‘I found your father, babies. He’s here. He’s alive.’
My eyes glide even south. To his solid butt, down those muscular thighs and the sight itself ignites a buzz that sends euphoria all the way down to my core.
It’s him. Only one man can get me this bothered. Only one man can get my pussy whimpering like this.
I’m dazed and I ogle him. Hard.
Like I’ve summoned him, like I’ve called him with my stare alone, he turns around.
I have nowhere to run.
I have nowhere to hide as our eyes meet.
And my eyes… well he can’t blame my eyes for wandering.
I shamelessly peak at the V lines that lead to his length and lick my lips, swallowing the saliva that burns my throat.
He doesn’t move. Always the cynical bastard.
He challenges me. I look at him.
He looks at me and those eyes don’t have love, they are as bland as ever with a smidgen of curiosity.
So, with one last look at what’s mine, I close the door.
Oh God. Oh my God.
This is torture. Cruel unbelievable torture.
My heart beats erratically so much so that my feet paralyze with fear.
I have to get out.
I have to get out now.
With whatever fight I still have in me, my shaking hand grabs the cold metallic doorknob, ready to bolt out of here and find a corner to happy-cry in this vast mansion about him.
The door doesn’t open.
No, that would be wishful thinking.
A veiny muscular hand appears on the right side of my head, caging me in, giving me no room to breathe.
My backbone crumbles, my sharp tongue dulls and the shields I’ve kept up for so many years crumble.
I smell his cologne and my body goes wild; I hear his breathing patting my brown hair.
Not blonde, baby.
I had to dye my blonde hair brown to blend in here in case your mother decides to visit. I’m sorry I don’t have that blonde hair you liked so much, Christian.
Sorry.
His warmth mixes with my warmth.
“Turn around.”
His voice is a low, dark, whisper that makes my heart pound.
I can’t turn around.
I’ll bawl my eyes out like a little baby if I do.
“Turn around, you nosy stalker.”
It’s a warning now.
A warning I don’t heed to.
“No.” My voice shakes.
“What’s your name?”
His voice comes even harder.
I blab out the name Kai fabricated for me and Yan.
“Melissa.” I whisper.
He goes silent just to torture me. He lets me suffocate in his scent.
“You make it a habit of spying on naked men while you are doing your job, Melissa?”
Alexia. It’s Alexia. Or Sunshine. Or baby. Or little nurse.
“No, sir.”
Silence again.
“Pack your things, Melissa. As of today, you are fired.”
I turn around too quickly, my hands landing on his naked chest, the feel of his skin like a shot of dopamine right through my veins.
“Sir, please don’t!” I shout.
Brown eyes collide with mine; grumpy features meet my startled ones.
He peers at me like an insect he stepped on and wants to rub it off his shoe.
“Give me one good reason why I should let one of my mother’s spies linger around enough that I can’t get a moment of peace inside my own damn house.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That’s not a reason, Melissa. Try again. Make it good.”
I love you. I love you so much.
“I have a sick grandfather, my mom’s a drunkard and my two dogs also depend on me.”
I’ve always been a bad liar. To him most especially.
“Dogs?”
“Sir, I need this job.”
“Because of your dogs?”
“And my sick grandfather.”
He stares. I’m practically melting.
I swallow saliva, his eyes linger on my neck and I want those lips so badly like I need air.
“Get the fuck out of my sight, Melissa. This room is off-limits to you and everyone else.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“And Melissa?”
“Mmh?”
“Stay away from me. I don’t give a shit how much you are paid to spy on me but do it far from me, you got that?”
I nod.
His hand grips my chin forcing me to face him a little better.
“I’m gonna need words, you little stalker.”
Little? My heart races.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I lie.
I’m not staying away, baby. Not after two years.